


An Actress Walks Into A Bar

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Hunter is a bartender, Limos, Margaritas, but he can also make coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU. Hunter’s working at Downtown Alley pouring drinks when A-List star Bobbi Morse makes an appearance. He’s seen her there before but hasn’t done anything more than pour her a margarita. Bobbi has had a terrible day and when the cute bartender offers to listen, she finds it’s not just his ear she wants.





	An Actress Walks Into A Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/gifts).

> Not beta'd because it's Gort's prezzie! So all the mistakes are on me.

`Hunter spun the glass in his hand before setting it down in front of a bored-looking man in an expensive suit.

The guy dropped a fifty on the counter and got up before Hunter could ask if he wanted change. Nice. It was why he kept working this gig in L.A. The bloody stars and nobs who frequented it treated him like shit, but money flowed out of them like piss.

A flash of blonde from across the room caught his eye.

Okay, the money was one reason he kept working at the bar, the other was her.

Bobbi Morse.

She was A-list all the way, everyone knew her, and Hunter was well aware he was just another star-struck fan, but in person she was far more alluring than on the silver screen or in a photoshopped ad. Bobbi was distractingly pretty, but over the months he’d worked at the bar he’d noticed things like the way her eyes crinkled, or how she tapped a finger when she was uninterested in the person she was chatting with.

Hunter grabbed the tequila to make her a margarita. It was all she’d ever said to him, her order, but he’d heard her talk with a lot of other people, and she was damned smart. He secretly enjoyed every time she put someone in their place. Everyone underestimated her.

Bobbi hadn’t been in for two weeks. The last time she’d had a relationship-ending argument with her loser boyfriend and stormed out. Hunter had wished he could offer a shoulder to cry on, but that was a dream. He’d settled for gloating the next day when all the papers had dragged the wanker.

Hunter had been worried about her, but now here she was, looking healthy and relaxed, her hair down around her shoulders and wearing a black spaghetti-strapped dress that was incredibly short, showing off miles of tanned legs. The neckline plunged, and her breasts looked like they wanted to escape.

He had to pause and think about cricket scores before his prick sat up any further. He was in black trousers and had a white t-shirt on with the bar’s logo. He was glad he was wearing it and not a button-up because the t-shirt stretched around his biceps to show them off, and his tattoos his peeked out. Years of service in the SAS had left him with a few, and usually, he was told they made him look dangerous.

Though it was unlikely Bobbi would have any opinion of him.

He set her drink in front of her the moment she stepped up to the bar and received a grateful smile in return.

His heart thudded in his chest. Those lips would look amazing wrapped around his cock. But her eyes were tired, and his lust disappeared. Bobbi looked defeated.

“What the matter, love?”

****

Bobbi had never felt as grateful as when the bartender set her favorite drink in front of her. His expression had become concerned, and his simple question almost made her break into tears. She’d spent the whole day in meeting after meeting, trying to save her current film project, but her ex, who had his fingers in a lot of Hollywood pies—among other things—had scared off backers.

Her pet project had ended up canned, and her agent had informed her that offers for roles had been rescinded and no new scripts had come in.

Bobbi knew she’d be fine. She was bankable. In a week or two, she’d been hired for some summer blockbuster. And if not, she had enough money on her own to buy an island and live like a hermit for the rest of forever.

Only, since her ex had been exposed as the pig he was, nobody had once been concerned about her. She was strong, all the stories about her said so, so family and friends hadn’t exactly been beating down her door to care for her. But here was her bar-boyfriend worrying how she was doing.

She plunked her butt on one of the barstools--it was remarkably plush--and sighed.

Bobbi kept coming to Downtown Alley because the security was good, and the bartender was cute. She always texted the owner—Phil was a sweetheart—before she came to ask if her bar boyfriend was there. Hunter was the only one who made her drinks right, and the only one who made all of her perk up.

She should have asked him his name ages ago, instead of ogling him like she was fifteen.

Bobbi held out a hand. “I’m Bobbi, which you probably know. I’ve had a hideous day, I’m thankful for this drink, and I’d like to know your name.”

“Lance Hunter,” he replied as he firmly shook her hand. “Call me Hunter.”

“Hunter it is.” Bobbi wrapped her lips around the straw in her drink, and Hunter’s eyes dropped to her mouth for a moment before lifting back to hers.

“Good?”

She nodded and let the straw go. “I always call to make sure you’re here before I show up, because you’re the only one who mixes my drink right, and I’m sorry I’ve not asked your name before.”

Hunter raised a brow. “Then how do you ask if I’m here?” He crossed his arms, making the very lickable muscles in his forearms bulge, and her face heated up.

“I ask if my bar boyfriend is working.” She had to be bright red.

Hunter leaned against his side of the bar. “Do you now?”

He picked up her glass, plucked out the straw, and took a sip, setting it back down like it was a challenge. Bobbi knew she was playing with fire. Why did this man make her ache with wanting? He wasn’t ostentatiously good looking in the way men were in California, but he only had to smile and her whole body nearly went up in flames.

It’d been annoying when she was still dating. Now it was something else entirely. It was a possibility.

Bobbi picked up the margarita glass and turned to until she could press her lips to the same spot Hunter had drunk from. She tilted the glass up, and he inhaled sharply.

She set the empty down with a tink on the marble bar. “So, Hunter, which movie of mine is your favorite?”

He snorted and ran a hand through his neatly styled brown hair. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Both. Start with the lie.”

“_The Broken Bell_,” he said promptly, naming an art house pic she’d done two years ago. “You portrayed the destruction of a woman’s soul through benign neglect perfectly. I should have earned you an Oscar nomination instead of the male lead. He had the emotional range of a dead hippopotamus.”

“Less,” she muttered. Hunter grinned and poured her another round. “Now for the truth.”

“_Beach Summer_.” He said the name of the campy movie with a straight face.

Bobbi threw her head back and laughed, then took a drink. “The topless scene?”

“Of course. I was ecstatic to find out they were real when I started working here.” He raised a brow and pointedly looked down the front of her shirt. She leaned forward to give him a better view, and her nipples tightened to hard points under his gaze. Bobbi was looked at every day by a great many people, most in a lustful way, but what was different with Hunter was that it was making her horny too.

She sat up and sighed. “I wish I’d met you years ago, when I was in college, before all this.” She gestured at the bar but meant all of Hollywood.

“I didn’t go, was serving Queen and country.” He pushed his sleeve up at turned towards her, showing off the winged dagger tattoo on his arm.

Bobbi reached out and ran her fingers over it. Hunter groaned softly as a shudder went through him, which had probably felt like the jolts of heat that were shooting up her arm and down to her pussy. “Who Dares Wins,” she read as she stroked the image of a winged dagger.

“Do you dare, Hunter?”

****

He must have died at some point and ended up in heaven, because why else would Bobbi Morse be touching him and asking things like that.

“Only on days that end in y,” he said inanely.

She sat back and wrapped her fingers around her glass again, but her eyes were studying him.

He was still stuck on ‘bar boyfriend’.

“What do you think of me?” she asked, out of the fucking blue. “You serve these people here, see how they—we—act, when you’re someone that risked your life in the army.”

He shrugged. What a loaded question. “Like everyone else, I think you’re beautiful. Though my favorite thing that you do is show off that brain of yours.”

“What?” She made a face.

“You’re smart, and when you put some berk in his place by thinking circles around him…it’s a fucking turn on is what it is.”

Oh, terrific. Hunter gave himself a mental kick. What’d he said that for? Might as well tell her about how he wanked to her image in his mind. Or sometimes on his mobile.

Bobbi still looked puzzled. “I have a Ph.D. in biology,” she blurted.

“You do?”

“I never tell people, they get weird. Drama was my minor, and you probably know the rest of that story.”

He did, she’d been in a local production of _Show Boat_ when she’d been discovered and dragged to Hollywood. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to share, the big wigs wouldn’t like their leading lady to be smarter than them,” he said, and she nodded sadly. “That brings me back to my first question, which you didn’t answer, why was today shite?”

He had no way of making it better, but sometimes just talking about something was helpful. His therapist had taught him that.

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut briefly before taking a long drink. “There was a project,” she said in a choked voice. “A movie. It was a big deal to me, about therapeutic riding, and I spend the whole day trying to save it. My cousin…anyway, my fucking ex got my funding pulled.”

Hunter saw red, and his jaw clenched. “What me to take him out? I have training.”

She laughed again. A belly laugh, with a smile that reached her eyes. “No, don’t kill him. He’s not worth the bullet.”

“Who says I’d use a bullet?”

Bobbi watched as he cracked his knuckles and then his neck. It was meant to make her laugh, but instead, she licked her lower lip and then bit it. His cock decided it was going to be needed after all. “Um,” she blushed again, down her neck this time. “What about if I wanted you to do something else for me, to help me forget?” She inhaled sharply. “I mean…if you don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.”

“Neither.”

His prick was rapidly making decisions for him, which made it a good thing he hadn’t had a single relationship since coming to L.A.. His mate had dragged him to the other side of the world because Fitz had won some kind of smarty-pants fellowship research grant thing from UCLA and hadn’t wanted to be along in a new country. Only Fitz had met Jemma two days after starting his new position and had moved in with her the following week, and now Hunter was going to be a best man soon and had ended up the one alone.

Bloody fucking hell.

Though Hunter’s jealousy over his mate getting hitched was fast disappearing as Bobbi seemed to be coming on to him.

Or he was reading this situation very wrong.

“I’m going to call my limo around back,” she said, pulling her mobile out of her clutch. “And text Phil to let him know he’s going to have to do without you for the rest of the night.”

Hunter braced his hands on the bar. “Let me get this straight,” he whispered. Bobbi, not looking up from her phone, dragged the tip of one finger down arm to tease his wrist. He swallowed hard, and Bobbi glanced up into his eyes.

“I want to fuck you,” she said.

****

The limo was over air-conditioned and smelled of leather cleaner. The seats squeaked under her knees as she straddled Hunter, whose face was a study in concentration as his hands found the zipper of her dress and lowered it so that her breasts spilled out.

His hand engulfed one while his lips found hers.

He tasted like margarita.

Bobbi ground down against him and groaned to find his cock thick and hard in his pants. She was so turned on that she couldn’t stand waiting. “I need you, right now,” she said, yanking Hunter’s shirt off and pushing him back against the seats to kiss him again.

He pulled her dress off over her head, leaving her in her heels and panties.

“Fuck,” he gasped, nuzzling her neck. “You smell fantastic.”

She attacked his fly while muttering a thank-you, and he obediently lifted his hips and slid his pants down to his knees.

His cock looked even better than it had felt. How had she’d thought her ex was worth the trouble when this had been waiting for her? From her clutch, she grabbed a condom and ripped the package open. She almost handed it to Hunter but was too eager to get to know his dick better. Grabbing his cock, she rolled the condom on.

“Ribbed?” he asked, looking down.

“And dotted. My ex wouldn’t let me get them, so I bought a box a couple of days ago.” She cupped Hunter’s balls, making his cock twitch. “There some special lubricant on them too.” She looked into his face as a tiny thread of doubt crept in. “Is that okay?”

“Bob, you could dress me like a clown and put a banana peel on my prick and it’d still be just as hard.”

She groaned and punched his shoulder as he grinned crookedly up at her. “So not my thing. I’m quickly finding ex-SAS bartenders are.”

“Bobbi,” he whispered, his fingers stroking between her legs and rubbing her clit. She moaned, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Pushing his hand away, she fisted his cock and sank down on him, until all of him was filling her up. He trailed his fingers down her back. “Is that okay, love?”

It was more than okay. Bobbi moved slightly up and down, the roof of the limo not letting her get far, then squeezed around his cock.

Hunter groaned, loudly. “Serious question,” he said. “As an actress, you must work out a lot and, believe me, I appreciate it.” She put her hands on his chest. He had to be spending time at the gym as well, with all the hard muscle she felt. “But do you work your cunt out too? Because fucking hell, you feel good.”

She squeezed again. “I do. I had a friend get me into Kegel balls. I’m up to the max weight now.”

“Your effort is worth it.”

“It’s because you’re giving me a lot to work with.”

Hunter wore his crooked grin again, and she found she didn’t care about how many times she bumped her head, she was going to ride him hard. The lubricant was heating up and was doing as advertised and making her more sensitive.

Everything was conspiring to make her come quickly and hard.

Her hips churned, and Hunter claimed her mouth, kissing her wildly as she fucked him.

Her belly tightened, and she came with a shout she muffled against his shoulder.

Hunter didn’t stop. He grabbed her ass, lifted her slightly, and kept thrusting.

Draped over him, she hardly moved as he wrung another orgasm out of her, and then a third.

His hands held her securely, even as his noises got louder and his cock swelled a little more, his grip didn’t falter.

His peak was accompanied by a deep thrust that was satisfying for her, but no sound.

Hunter leaned back against the seat and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

They panted together for long moments, but then he anchored the condom, and she pulled off his cock, searching for tissues which she gave him. Her eyes went to the carpet as he stripped off the condom and cleaned up.

She shimmed her dress back on, and he did up his pants.

There was more silence.

“The limo’s going to one of my places,” she said after long moments.

“Uh,” Hunter replied, and she finally raised her eyes to his face. His head was tilted back against the seat, and he had a beatific grin on his face.

Bobbi had dragged him out of the bar with no clear plan and still didn’t have one, besides not wanting to have this wind up being nothing more than a quick fuck in a car. She wanted to know the man she was looking at, wanted to know everything about him. Maybe wanted to fall in love. “Do you want to come in when we get there?” She hated how unsure she sounded.

Hunter frowned and cracked an eye open. “You’re going to have to tell me how you want me to answer that question. I’m not expecting anything, if you're just being polite…hoping, but not expecting.”

“Do you want to have breakfast with me?” There, she asked what she’d really wanted to. Her ex had never once wanted her around in the morning. She’d excused it as him being busy, or that she was busy, but the harder truth had become apparent over the last few weeks. Bobbi had always been his accessory. His trophy.

She was a fucking lousy trophy.

Hunter slid a hand towards her, even though his eyes were closed again. “I not only mix amazing drinks, but I also make a hell of a pot of coffee.”

Her heart warmed. “Can I be the big spoon?”

His grin returned as she intertwined her fingers with his. “Sure, if I can make one giraffe joke per day.”

“I’m keeping a tally.”

“What’s my punishment if I make two?”

Bobbi had her phone out to text her assistant, who was waiting at the house she never brought anyone too. It was her special just-for-her spot, but Hunter…she wanted Hunter in the place she called home, not a condo that might as well be a hotel room.

Piper, her assistant, shot back a bunch of see-no-evil monkeys and a promise she was clearing out, right after she put a second towel and toothbrush in the bathroom.

Bobbi clicked the phone off.

“Well?” Hunter asked.

“I’m thinking spankings.”

“Two giraffe jokes coming up.” He sat up, the seat squeaking. “Do you have any idea how many walks-into-a-bar jokes I know?”

“Long neck, the bartender asks if the giraffe wants a long neck.”

His lower lip snuck out into a pout.

She kissed it, sucking briefly before claiming his entire mouth. She had no idea where any of this was going, but she had the feeling Hunter might be around long enough to tell her every single one of those jokes.


End file.
